


Hooked

by ItsYourLocalBi



Series: Potentially Wonderful [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Attempt at Humor, Awesome Alana, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Hair, Humor, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsYourLocalBi/pseuds/ItsYourLocalBi
Summary: Evan Hansen never stood out that much.Connor Murphy stood out too much. That was how Evan noticed him in the first place. Connor was a topic of discussion in their small school of under eight hundred kids in the small town of 3,000 people.And yet, when Evan notices something about Connor that he's never given much thought to before, his world takes a turn for the wackier.OR: I really wanted to rewrite Potentially Wonderful, so here you go. It is not required that you read that one first, but it would be cool if you wanted to anyways.
Relationships: Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy, Cynthia Murphy/Larry Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Series: Potentially Wonderful [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829461
Comments: 21
Kudos: 60





	1. His Ex-Crush's Brother's Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you know why you're here, you know. If you're new, welcome! I hope you like it!

Chapter 1

Evan Hansen was officially absolutely, inconveniently, irrevocably hooked.

On what, you may ask?

He didn't know.

But! He did know that it had something to do with Zoe Murphy's older brother.

Zoe Murphy's older brother, otherwise known as Connor Murphy.

Connor Murphy, also known as "that freaky douche", "psycho boy", "school stoner", "that kid who threw a printer in the second grade", and all sorts of other really horrible things that Evan had overheard that he absolutely Did Not like to think about.

Evan really didn't know why Connor seemed to be the one person in school that literally everyone knew of or about, but he suspected it was because they were a Small Community, as his mom said, so word traveled fast, and Connor's debut of throwing a printer was probably the most exciting thing anyone had heard about in ages.

But that was not the point.

The point was that Evan could not stop sneaking glances at Connor ever since Connor had pushed him on the first day of school. It had been a week. It was getting problematic. And "problematic", of course meant that Jared had noticed.

"Why do you keep staring at the wrong Murphy, dude?" Jared sprung on him one day at lunch, a rare occasion since Jared hardly ever deigned to sit with him.

"What?" He said, still distracted.

"I mean, I get that you might be freaked since he like, shoved you and all, and I get that. But the dude has been leaving you alone since then. I think you might be in the clear."

"Oh, yeah totally, totally. You're right." He saw Jared's chest puff up a little at that, but unfortunately, being agreed with did not always distract Jared when Evan needed it to.

"You know, you say that, but now you're just openly staring at him."

"I am not–!" Evan started too loudly, then stopped. "I am not staring," he muttered, quickly looking down at the health bar he clutched in his hand.

Fortunately for Evan, Jared seemed to lose interest after failing to get more of a reaction out of him. They ate in a somewhat comfortable silence, Evan picking at his cast and Jared playing Angry Birds ("It's totally still a cool game, Evan, get educated."), until the bell rang.

"Don't forget I'm driving you to your therapy appointment after school today, dude," Jared reminded him as he stood up and dumped his tray in the garbage can. "Gotta show my mom that I'm being nice to you and all that."

Evan tried to hide his wince with a small wave. "Yeah, totally," he said as he turned to go to class, and out of that cafeteria as quickly as he could. He hated being reminded that Jared only treated him like a friend, sorry, "family friend," in order to not have to pay his car insurance. It sucked.

Regardless of his slightly dampened mood, or rather, his very soaked mood, Evan still perked up in spite of himself when he saw the class door.

Class meant that Evan would be seeing more of Connor, which made him feel a strange sort of happiness that he had only ever really associated with Zoe, and he really Did Not Like that thought. In spite of not enjoying the happiness that he got from staring at Connor, Evan still intended to fully utilize the advantage sitting directly behind Connor in Chemistry gave him. Plus, due to his spot being in the back, no one ever noticed. And if no one noticed, then Evan could pretend that it was all purely coincidental. He was very good at lying, especially to himself.

However, lying to himself turned out not to work as well as he had intended when class ended and suddenly he was no longer staring at the back of Connor Murphy's head, but instead into a pair of very confused eyes that were slowly melting into anger, and oh no, he had just been caught staring at Connor Murphy by Connor Murphy himself, oh dear lord, he was going to die, crap, quick, he had to say something, anything to get himself out of this situation right now–

"Your hair's really knotted," he exclaimed, and then immediately slapped his good hand over his mouth. Of all possible infinitely better things to say, why on Earth had his mind let him say that one? It didn't even make sense. He hadn't even known he'd been thinking about it.

"Fuckin what?" Connor said, his eyes narrowing and face pulling into a scowl. Evan's internal monologue wasn't even making sense to Evan himself anymore, so he turned to the one vocabulary word that hadn't abandoned him.

"Shit, um– uh–, shit."

Evan ran. He grabbed his bag and bolted out the door as fast as his legs would carry him. 'Knotted hair? Seriously?' He thought furiously to himself as he raced down the hall, trying furiously to focus on not drawing attention to himself while still putting as much distance between himself and Connor as possible. What the actual hell had he been thinking?

Well, he thought as he rounded the corner, he wasn't exactly wrong. Connor's hair was really, really tangled. A week of staring at it confirmed that. He wasn't even sure if Connor ever brushed it.

As he slowed his pace down to more of a speed walk, his mind wandered to trying to figure out how different brushed hair would make Connor look. Would his hair even be the same length? Just how tangled was it? Was his hair even curly? Or was it just so knotted that even he didn't know?

Evan mentally slapped himself as he approached his next class. He could not afford to become obsessed with hair. Especially not Connor Murphy's hair. He could only imagine the kind of problems that would cause.

A vision of Jared's taunting face swam through his head and he shuddered. That most definitely was not something he wanted to live through.

No. He would not let himself obsess over Connor Murphy or his hair. He was stronger than that.

__________

So as it turned out, he was not stronger than that. Not even close.

Two hours later he was in the computer lab, typing out yet another letter that he had sworn to his mother was helping, even though it really wasn't. And nothing was really getting typed due to the fact that he could not stop his mind from picturing Connor with all sorts of different styles.

Evan let out a noise of despair as he banged his head against the keyboard. He was so screwed. Of course, he, Evan Hansen, the loser of all losers, would become infatuated with his ex-crush's brother's hair.

Gosh, it felt weird to refer to Zoe as his ex-crush. It was something his therapist had him working on. They had recently had a "breakthrough" as Dr. Sherman had said, and Evan was trying to stop seeing Zoe as the answer to all his problems when he didn't even know her. And slowly using terms that detached him from her in his head was how they were starting.

It wasn't easy to break his habit of paying attention to all the little details that had started his infatuation-

Wait. Duh. He just needed to stop watching Connor. It was working to help him separate his idea of getting better from Zoe, why not do the same with her brother's hair?

Evan mentally congratulated himself, and then immediately started thinking about how weird it was to congratulate himself on figuring out a way to stop obsessing over his ex-crush's brother's hair.

Dear lord, he was a mess.

"Hey, Hansen."

"SHIT!" Evan cried out, startled out of his chair at being broken out of his thought spiral. He hit the ground with a thud, luckily landing on his right arm and not his left, and he wondered for a moment if that was what it had sounded like when he fell from the tree.

He shook his head, dazed, and looked up to see, who else, but Connor Murphy staring down at him, alarm and bemusement written plainly on his face.

"Um, hey," Evan waved from his spot on the floor. "What's up?"

"Not you," Connor replied, sticking out his hand. Evan stared at him blankly for a moment before reaching out and lightly high fiving it. Connor rolled his eyes and grabbed his good arm, pulling him up from the floor in a surprisingly smooth motion.

Evan looked at the floor, fiddled with his cast, focused on doing anything he could to keep himself from staring at Connor. It was quiet for what was probably only about twenty seconds, but felt like hours.

"Nobody's, um, nobody's signed your cast," Evan heard suddenly. He glanced up at Connor for a fraction of a second before going back to meticulously picking at the edge of his cast.

"Yeah, no, no, I know."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah, I don't really have, you know. Friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll sign it."

Evan looked up, shocked. "Why?"

Connor's knuckles whitened, clutching the strap of his ratty messenger's bag, and Evan could recognize the signs of walls being put up from a mile away. "I just- you know what? Forget it."

"What?" Evan asked, still reeling from the unexpected offer.

Connor didn't seem to hear him. "I don't know why I'm even here. This was stupid-"

"Wait. What?" Evan repeated, confusion rising.

"Why would anyone want to have the name of a psycho on their arm, right?" Connor was looking at him suddenly, smiling sardonically. "Forget I even asked."

Evan had a split second where he was torn. Connor wasn't wrong. He didn't want anyone noticing Connor's name on his cast. On the other hand, Evan could only imagine the humiliation of offering to sign something and being met with disgust.

"Wait, no, stop, I don't- Why would you want to?" He blurted out. Connor's face went from sarcastic to confused. "To sign my cast, I mean. Just, I don't get it," Evan muttered, then mentally kicked himself. Great. He sounded even more pathetic now.

"I-" Connor hesitated, tucking his hair behind his ear, and Evan was momentarily distracted. "I was trying to just- You didn't deserve to be called a freak. Or shoved to the ground. I got angry. Obviously. So. Yeah."

"Oh." Oh. Connor was trying to apologize? That- Evan was Not Used to others being the one to apologize to him. It just wasn't a thing that happened.

And Evan knew before he even opened his mouth that he was so going to regret what he was about to say, but damn, was he bad at impulse control.

"I don't- I would be happy if you'd sign it."

Well. That sentence carried more weight than he'd expected. Doubt colored Connor's surprise, but Evan fumbled for the sharpie his mother had given him that morning, asking him to get some friends to sign his cast. He handed it to Connor, who seemed to get over whatever boundary he had built as he uncapped the sharpie and grabbed Evan's arm. Evan winced and Connor muttered apologetically.

Connor's hair fell in front of his face as he signed Evan's cast, and Evan couldn't help but stare at it. The way strands of hair curled over some of the knots. How it was just ever so slightly matted in two places at the end. The way the harsh white overhead lights made some of the lighter strands pop out and contrast the mass of dark hair that hung in tangled curls. It was definitely naturally curly. And he really needed some detangler.

"Done," Connor announced, breaking Evan out of his transfixed state.

He looked down and balked at the large capital letters taking up almost the whole front half of his cast. "Oh," he said weakly. "Thank you "

"Yeah, well. Now we can both pretend we have friends."

"Can we?" Evan blurted.

"What?"

Evan felt embarrassment rise high on his cheeks. He was supposed to be separating himself from Connor. That was not separating himself. But it felt so damn good to have someone who actively sought him out to apologize to him. He wanted that. He- he needed that in his life.

He loved his mom. He did, truly. But even when she tried to make up for not being there, she often had to reschedule or cancel things altogether. And Evan understood why. Of course he did. She was a single mother, who was working her butt off to give them comfortable living space. And her job as a nurse required her to be on hand at a moment's notice. And she was taking night classes to earn a law degree, so she needed whatever sleep she could get.

But Evan couldn't stop the feeling of being alone and the resentment that came from his mom being busy all the time, no matter how much he was grateful for all she was doing.

Evan needed someone he could go to who he knew would be able to be there, who wouldn't make fun of his problems, or try to offer a thousand different solutions and expect him to know what to do with them.

And maybe he was getting ahead of himself because he didn't even know Connor.

But he wanted to try.

"Would you like to try and be friends? Real ones?"

Sweet Earth, he was a mess. He braced himself for the inevitable rejection. Why would Connor Murphy of all people want to be his friend? The guy obviously had enough shit he was dealing with. The last thing he probably needed was some guy with terrible anxiety and depression who had a strange fixation with his hair hanging around.

"I mean- we can try," Connor said instead.

"Huh?"

"I doubt you'll end up wanting to be my friend, though," Connor continued, scratching at his wrist, not making eye contact. "I'm a wreck. But I can't make that choice for you, so. Whatever you want, Hansen."

Holy shit.

The guy who was his ex-crush's brother as well as the Notorious School Outcast (the notorious one, not one of the ones people didn't even hear about, that was Evan's crowd) wanted to try and be his friend.

"Right. Yeah. Cool. We can, we can do that. Yeah," Evan nodded, a slight smile growing on his face, even as his nerves spiked.

"Cool."

It seemed neither of them quite knew how to carry the conversation. They had both just made a friend by asking, which was not a custom either boy had used since the third grade.

Evan fiddled with his cast, trying not to stare at the huge block letters that now took up the whole front of it. He didn't know how to feel about it. He wasn't sure he regretted it, but it was… really noticeable. Way more noticeable than he had originally been worried about. And if he tried to cover it, that would really send the wrong message, because he wasn't ashamed of having Connor's name on his cast, but boy was he scared of being shamed for it. Especially by Jared.

Wait.

"Oh, crap, no, I forgot about Jared."

"What?" Connor asked as Evan started shoving papers back into his backpack.

"Jared, the one who called you a, well, he's not very nice, but he's my ride home, and I need to go so that I don't end up walking home because then I'll need a shower and I ran out of soap this morning so-"

Evan kept rambling as he logged off the computer and finished packing up, only to stop talking abruptly when he turned around to find Connor staring at him.

"What?"

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say, Hansen. I'm impressed," Connor said lightly, hands no longer gripping the strap of his ratty messenger's bag so tightly, one coming up to push a loose lock of hair behind his ear. Connor wore earrings. "And it's cool," he continued lightly. "I've got to drive my sister home anyways."

"Right. Yeah, so I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Evan asked, hoping he hadn't misunderstood how this new friendship was going to work.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." Connor turned to go. "Later, Hansen."

"Yeah. Later."

Evan stared after him as he left, taking his Very Distracting hair with him.

That… 

Happened.

Evan looked down at his cast. Big block letters.

Holy crap.

That actually happened.

__________

The ride from school to his therapist was a relatively quiet one. Jared asked what took him so long, and instead of giving a real answer, he muttered something about loosing track of time.

Why? He didn't know.

Maybe it was because when Evan arrived at Jared's car, Jared made a joke about him having too much fun in the bathroom.

"Anyways, you probably dodged a bullet, Evan. I saw your psycho boy leave the school about two minutes before you did. He might've caught you staring and shoved you again."

"Yeah, no, right. I got lucky," Evan replied absentmindedly, holding his backpack over his arm tightly, not wanting to slip up and face Jared's taunting.

Maybe that was another reason why Evan didn't want Jared to find out. He didn't want to be an even bigger object of ridicule. That sounded like a very plausible explanation, and a very Evan explanation at that.

Or maybe it was the way Jared declined the offer to sign his cast that morning. Jared had refused. Connor had asked permission.

And maybe, just maybe, Evan wanted to have something to himself that wasn't his mental health.

Evan decided to use that to justify not telling Dr. Sherman about his newfound friendship with his ex-crush's brother and his fascination with the aforementioned's hair.

It's not like it was going to help anything. He and Connor had only decided to try and be friends not even an hour beforehand, so it wasn't as though there was much to say. And Evan wasn't keen on explaining that while detaching his idea of feeling okay from Zoe was working, it wasn't helping him stay away from her brother.

So, no. He wasn't going to tell anyone about Connor. Not yet. Not before he even had a chance to talk to him.

He didn't tell his mother when she came to pick him up from therapy, either.

"Did you make any new friends, Evan?" She asked, too cheerful. And when his answer was no, she just gave him a smile that let him know that was the answer she was expecting.

She went on about how it was okay, because he still had the rest of the year to make friends. It was only the second week.

He smiled back and nodded along because it was what she wanted. And by the time they got back to the house, and Evan was pulling his homework in front of him, he was already convincing himself that Connor probably didn't even want to try being his friend, and he'd only said that because Evan was The Loser of all Losers so he felt sorry for him.

Connor, with his absolutely fascinating hair, that really was a mystery due to all of the knots and tangles. Connor, with his sharp attitude, and hostile temper. Connor, who had come to him to apologize because Evan was that sorry of a sight. No way would he actually want to be seen hanging around Evan.

Yet, despite all of Evan's reasoning as to why it wouldn't matter if he mentioned what happened with Connor to anyone in the long run, he still acted on the impulse that invaded his head in the middle of copying English notes.

So, after his mom had left for her 5 o'clock shift, and Evan's homework was done, he stood from his desk chair and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand drawer. He checked to make sure it was still light out and began making his way to the Walgreens two blocks away with an old gift card in his jacket pocket. And when he returned, it was with two bottles of detangler and a small bag with other hair products and accessories.

"It doesn't mean anything," he kept telling himself. He always had been good at lying.

But he knew the truth.

He was already in too deep for his own good.

__________


	2. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe deals with a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a very heavy second chapter. I promise the whole story won't be this serious ,(maybe) but I felt it was necessary to really address how Connor still being alive a week after his death in canon would affect everyone, especially Zoe. So. Here we go.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and the general negative vibe

Chapter 2

Zoe had been the one to find him that day.

The first day of school.

She remembered being annoyed. He'd left her standing in the school parking lot. She'd gotten a ride.

He hadn't responded to her yelling at him when she got back. The house was empty. But his car was in the driveway.

Normally, she wouldn't have bothered looking. But the medicine cabinet was open. A bottle was missing.

She didn't know why she ran.

It was nearing 6 when she found the park. He was sitting on a bench. For a horrifying moment, he wasn't moving. When her feet hit the wood chips on the ground he looked up.

Zoe didn't think she'd ever forget how surprised he was.

"What are you doing here?"

"I think I should ask you that." She pulled her jean jacket tighter. It was cold for September. "Why aren't you at home?"

"It's not home." He wouldn't look at her. His hands were clenched in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He looked comfortable. He'd always loved the cold.

"It's the closest you have."

He still didn't look up. She wanted to strangle him. It wasn't fair that she had to be having this conversation with her older brother. She was only sixteen. Granted, he wasn't much more than a year older than her, but still. They were both kids. Kids shouldn't have to have conversations like this. No one should.

"Why are you here, Zoe?"

Why was she there? Just earlier that day she'd sworn she didn't care. That she was done.

"Don't leave Connor," she said instead of giving a real answer. "Leaving won't fix anything."

"And staying will?"

It was meant to be sarcastic. She could tell. But even Connor couldn't hide when he was being genuine. Not from her.

"I don't know. But I can't deal with it all on my own."

"Deal with what?"

"Our parents, Connor. Life. I can't keep playing their perfect little girl."

"Wouldn't you be able to stop if I'm gone? You'd have nothing to balance out."

"Please, Connor," she resorted to begging. "Please come back with me."

"Why would you want me around." It wasn't a question. "With everything I've done? You should be happy."

Zoe didn't know why. But she didn't have Val anymore, and she couldn't lose her brother after losing her best friend.

"We can start over. I'll stop pretending if you do. We can both get better."

"Both?" He flew up from the bench. She took a step back. He was angry now. "How do you get better than perfect? What are you trying to pull here?"

"I'm not perfect!" Zoe yelled. "Would you quit assuming that you're the only one going through shit?! Yeah, maybe you've got it worse, but that doesn't make my life all sunshine happy rainbows, so stop acting like I want you to kill yourself!"

He looked away, brow furrowed so deeply in an expression that almost frightened her. "Zoe," he said, almost threatening, but more vulnerable than he'd been in a long time.

"Don't do it Connor."

She hazarded a step forward. And another. He let her keep moving until she was holding his arm.

"I want things to be better again. No more pretending. Please, Connor, don't make me do it alone."

Connor finally looked at her.

For as long as Zoe could remember, Connor had a way of staring at people as though he could read their minds. It had been a long time since he'd stared at her like that.

Whatever answer he'd been looking for, he found it.

They walked home together. Their mom seemed surprised when Connor told her they'd decided to go for a walk. But as with anything that involved the two of them getting along, it pleased their mom greatly.

They didn't yell at each other that night.

The next day after school on the drive home, Zoe and Connor talked for a long time. Well, more Zoe talking, with Connor nodding and chiming in from time to time. When asked why he wasn't saying much, he simply told her that she was better at keeping things calm than he was. Zoe wondered if he knew how casual he was being about this, or how unnerving that was. Probably not.

They both agreed that apologizing for everything all at once was too much.

Zoe wasn't about to up and forgive her brother for every horrible thing he'd done or said, and Connor made it clear that he wasn't going to immediately become all better. Connor still had anger issues, and they weren't going away soon. Zoe still had a perfectionist complex, and all her habits of playing up the perfect daughter weren't going to disappear just because she wanted them too.

But nobody improves in any way if they don't put in effort.

So they started small. Remember to say please and thank you. That was the only goal they set.

It was a strained politeness that fell over them the next couple of days.

Zoe asked him to pass the syrup at breakfast. Please. Thank you.

Connor asked for some salt come dinnertime. Please. Thank you.

Their parents noticed. How could they not notice how quiet everything was? But they didn't say anything. Zoe watched her mom staring at them all, her smile just a bit less forced. She watched as her dad kept an eye on Connor, still calling him out on all of the usual stuff, but even he was less harsh.

Both of them slipped up every once in a while. But even when Connor got into a horrible fight with their dad, (the kind that usually ended in a door slamming and loud music playing as the faint stench from her brother's room strengthened a bit, the kind where Zoe would lock her door out of fear of her brother coming in and raising hell) he kept his promise to leave her out of it.

The two kept a respectful distance between them when they could.

Zoe caught him sketching in the kitchen late one night.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"It's late," she tried.

"I know."

"You're not- Everything okay?"

"Same as usual." Not an answer.

"Will you- I mean. You're not leaving?"

Connor looked at her again. "No."

Zoe nodded. He went back to sketching. She took that as her cue to get her water and go back to bed.

Other than that, Zoe didn't see much of him over the weekend. He stayed in his room, and she didn't bother him.

She wouldn't say that was getting along at all. It would be a long time before she and Connor truly ever got along, if it even happened. But helping each other through everyday life was more important than having a strong siblingship. And that was what mattered most to her.

She wasn't alone.

__________

A knock sounded at her door Monday night.

She opened it to reveal Connor, slightly frazzled looking.

"Hey?"

"Hi," he replied. He moved like he was going to step forward, then appeared to catch himself. "I have something I want to talk about."

"Okay?"

"In private."

Oh. He wanted permission to come in. A little stunned, Zoe stepped aside.

The two siblings stood there for a minute. Zoe watched as Connor looked around the room. He hadn't been in here for a good couple of years. Not since Zoe hit highschool. He stood out against the pale purple walls decorated with all kinds of posters. He didn't fit in with the fairy lights strung all around the room, or with the guitar sitting in the corner, or with the mountain of stuffed animals sitting on the bed.

Zoe watched as Connor found the one part of the room that hadn't changed. The reading nook in the corner, with two beanbags, one bright blue, the other a dark green. She motioned for him to sit as she returned to the homework on her bed.

When she looked up, he was still standing.

"I made a friend."

Of all the things Zoe was expecting, that wasn't it.

"What?"

"I'm going to try hanging out with him. So I wanted you to know that I, well that I don't-" Connor broke off with a sigh, turning away from her, running a hand through his hair.

Zoe stared at him. What was she supposed to do in this situation? Congratulate him? For making a friend? That didn't seem like what he was looking for, and Zoe didn't think that she should either. Not when he'd only had this new friend for less than a day. Plus, like, how condescending would it sound to be all 'Oh you made a friend? What a good job, you developed some form of social connection that isn't negative!'

Yeah, no.

"Connor?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you want to tell me about this? I don't really see how it's any of my business."

Connor's expression was now tearing itself between regret and humiliation. "I just- You have friends."

"Yeah?" Zoe said slowly. 'Not really,' she wanted to say. 'I hang around the jazz band kids, and a couple of the more popular ones adopted me last year. I don't think any of us really know each other. I know their names, and we hang out after school. But I don't talk to them about big problems. I would die for some of them, but only in the same way you'd die for a stranger. Because I'd feel responsible. I don't feel the same emotional connection to any of them. Not the way I did with Val before she stopped responding. Not the way I did with you.'

But she didn't say that, because this wasn't about her.

"How do I…?" Connor was mumbling now. Zoe couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him mumble.

"What?"

"How do I, you know, like, keep a friend?"

Oh.

"You really want my advice?" She asked dubiously. Connor nodded.

Huh. Well then.

"Okay, but you're not allowed to get mad."

"Really Zoe?"

"I mean it. Promise?"

Connor sighed. "Promise."

"Alright then," Zoe shifted so she sat cross legged on the bed. "Communicate."

"Well no shit Zoe," Connor snapped. "You think I plan on just not talking-"

"No. See, this is what I'm talking about," Zoe cut him off. "You came to me for advice. Listen. Please." Connor glowered at her, but ultimately kept his mouth shut. "You jump to conclusions. A lot. And you can't do that when talking to people if you want them to talk to you. So what I'm saying is, if you want to keep this friend you've made, you've got to communicate with them. That means talking things out, and listening to their side. Patiently."

God, the things Zoe wished she hadn't had to learn the hard way.

Connor stared at her for a long moment. "That's it?" He asked. "That's all you've got?"

"That's all I really know."

"What about all the shit you do?" Connor exclaimed, voice raising. "How do I do that? How do I keep myself from fucking up? How can you not know what to do?"

"I'm a teenager, Connor, not a professional advisor for all your shit," Zoe snapped. "Go ask a therapist if you want better answers."

Ah shit. Zoe shouldn't have mentioned therapy. Connor had taken a step back, and Zoe saw his expression go blank.

"Fuck, Connor. I didn't-"

"No, you're right," he cut her off, looking away again. "I'll just-" He backed away. "I'll leave you alone."

"Connor?" She called out despite herself as he reached the door. He paused. "Communicate. It'll help. Okay?"

Zoe saw his hand hesitate on the doorknob. "Yeah. Sure thing."

He shut the door behind him.

Well. That could have gone worse.

__________

The next morning, Zoe walked with her brother to his locker. She didn't really know why. Connor didn't either if the look he gave her was anything to go off of. She stood by the locker as Connor flung his bag inside and started doing whatever the hell people do in front of lockers. Zoe didn't know. She was more caught up in sneaking suspicious glances at the guy at the end of the hall who was staring at her brother.

He looked kind of familiar, and the polo shirt rang a bell in her head, but Zoe couldn't place where from.

Zoe nudged Connor.

"What?"

"Don't look, but there's some guy over- I said don't look!" But Connor had already turned in the direction of the guy, who seemed to realize he'd been caught.

Connor seemed to immediately both relax and tense up at the same time.

"You want me to deal with it?" Zoe murmured, to both his and her surprise. Zoe had no idea where the surge of protectiveness had come from. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened in the last week.

Actually, that was probably exactly why.

After blinking at her rather owlishly, Connor shook his head subtly. "No, I know him. He's…" he trailed off and looked at Polo Guy, who appeared to genuinely wish that the ground would swallow him whole, and cocked his head. "... My friend," Connor decided, and walked over to him.

Zoe could only see a fraction of Connor's face as he started talking to… his friend. Zoe started to recognize him. He was the kid who had come to the jazz band performances consistently for the past two years. He usually hung around that annoying guy, Jared, from Zoe's computer science class.

Polo Guy's face went from nervous to terrified when Connor said something, staring at him with wide eyes, and Zoe recognized the hurt way Connor's shoulder's straightened. He started to walk away when Polo Guy seemed to come to his senses and lunged for her brother's arm.

Alarms went off in Zoe's head. He touched Connor. Holy fuck. No. Oh shit. Connor didn't like his personal space invaded. Shit.

But Connor didn't lash out. He looked down at Polo Guy, shocked. Polo Guy drew his arm back like he had been burned, spluttering something Zoe couldn't hear, but she guessed it was an apology by the way Connor seemed pacified and continued talking.

'A nervous one, for sure,' she thought to herself as Polo Guy's already flushed face seemed to turn even redder. She watched him discreetly wipe his hands on his pants as he said something.

Both Zoe and Polo Guy did a double take when Connor cracked a grin, and snickered into his palm. Polo's face twisted into a watery smile as he seemed unsure whether or not to laugh along.

Connor gave the guy one last half smile before taking his leave.

Zoe approached Polo Guy, who was staring after her brother with something akin to awe as he rounded the corner.

"So," she said, startling Polo Guy, who gave a yelp of surprise. "You're Connor's new friend?"

"Zoe!" He said, illogically.

"Yes?" He knew her?

"I mean- um, you're Zoe. From the jazz band. I've seen you play. Because I like jazz. Not all jazz, but definitely jazz band jazz and I know you're a member and you're good, so. Yeah, yes, hi."

Well okay then. She regarded him for a moment. "Hello. And you are…"

"Evan."

"Evan," Zoe repeated.

"Yes, Evan, sorry," Polo Guy Evan affirmed.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I- well- uh- I don't know," he admitted, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, which now that she looked at it, seemed to be frayed a bit at the end. "You said something about Connor?" Polo Evan prompted.

"Yeah. You two are friends?"

"Yeah, well, as of yesterday. We're not- I don't really- we're going to give it a shot?"

Zoe assessed the boy in front of her. Polo Evan didn't seem to be bearing any ill will towards Connor. She didn't trust Jared though, not after the gum incident last year, and friends of Jared were under watch. Polo Evan appeared genuine, but she couldn't tell right now.

"A bit of advice," she offered, and Polo Evan looked up from his shirt. "Be patient with him. Don't put up with his shit, but please don't immediately drop him unless something serious happens. I don't- he can't- we-" she couldn't find a way to say what she wanted without oversharing.

"I'm not- I won't," Polo Evan nodded. He seemed serious behind the nervous waver in his voice. Zoe nodded.

The warning bell sounded, and Zoe was broken out of the serious spell.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around Po- Evan," she waved.

"Guess so," Polo Evan called after her.

He seemed like an okay guy. She hoped he was.

__________

Zoe did not like school.

She didn't like the work. She didn't like the effect the stress had on her. She certainly wasn't looking forward to all the tests and pre-tests that would come now that she was a junior. And above all, she despised her classes.

Zoe wasn't planning on doing anything that had to do with statistics, or history, or cooking, or any of that stuff. The only classes that even sort of aligned with what she wanted to do with her life were English and Computer Science. But they didn't do creative writing in English class, and she certainly didn't get credit, extra or otherwise, for the song lyrics she wrote, and Computer Science was more about visual programming than sound.

The one thing school had that was truly beneficial to her was jazz band, and that was an elective.

But Zoe liked lunchtime. She liked hanging out with the jazz band kids who let her not focus on all the bad stuff. She liked food and talking and being stupid. She liked relaxing, not having to think about the overwhelming amount of everything, even if it was just for half an hour.

So, Zoe was understandably upset when lunchtime became tutor time. Seriously, who gave a flying fuck about exactly what year the cheese wheel or whatever was invented? What the fuck was her history class? She'd learned more about the dangers and warning signs of history repeating itself from the internet than she had from any school lessons.

'Stupid small town school districts,' she thought to herself grumpily as she made her way to the classroom where she'd be meeting her new tutor.

"Oh, Zoe!" A voice interrupted her brooding. She plastered on a small fake smile as she turned to see whoever had called out. 

"Hello?"

"Hi," the girl said. She was significantly shorter than Zoe, with dark hair swept up into a high ponytail, a very businesslike outfit, with glasses to tie it all together. What stood out were the big butterfly earrings. She had a smile that appeared very rehearsed. Zoe could relate. "My name's Alana," the girl said, sticking her hand out.

Zoe stared for a second. 'Who shakes hands?' she thought, but took it anyways. "Zoe. But you knew that already," she said, a bit weirded out by the fact that two people she'd never met before knew her name twice in one day.

"Yes, well," Butterfly Earrings Alana said. "You're very recognizable. Even from your picture." She smiled at Zoe as if this made perfect sense.

"And you know me because…?" Zoe prompted after a long moment of silence.

"I'm your history tutor," Butterfly Earrings Alana said brightly.

Oh. That made perfect sense. Of course.

"Cool," Zoe replied intelligently.

"Come on, we don't want to waste any of your time." And with that, Butterfly Earrings Alana promptly turned on her heel and started dragging Zoe to the history classroom.

This would be odd.

And odd it was.

Butterfly Earrings Alana could recite details that Zoe didn't think her history teacher came close to covering in class or homework. She was a bit impatient, and Zoe wasn't even sure what her method was, but by the time the session was over, Zoe felt she knew more about how the Industrial Revolution began than her teacher had taught her in the past two weeks.

"You're good at this," Zoe said honestly. Butterfly Earrings Alana blinked at her, distrustful, but pride gleamed in her quick smile. "Are you planning on being a teacher?"

"Me? No way," she laughed lightly.

"You seem to like it," Zoe pressed, though she didn't know why. Butterfly Earrings Alana shrugged.

"It's alright, I guess. But I don't like the way the school curriculum is only just now starting to branch out and find ways to get all learning techniques in for kids who all have different ways of processing things, you know? Maybe if I'd been born this year, by the time I'd be my age the teaching styles will have evolved to suit my practices more, but not in this particular universe." Butterfly Earrings Alana smiled again, like what she'd said made all the sense in the world. And in some way, it did.

"Fair enough," Zoe nodded. "I've always learned best through song, but they don't really continue that past third grade. At least, from what I've noticed," she offered as they made their way out the door.

Butterfly Earrings Alana practically beamed at her before launching into a speech/lecture thing about how creativity and rhythm are often left behind when you reach a certain age and how school districts really should encourage it more, and maybe then it could be carried into adulthood, so people wouldn't dread long meetings so much, and society would just benefit so much more if business wasn't all sneaky deals with papers and small print, because even though that is a necessary aspect of it, the whole system could be so much more.

Zoe listened, fascinated by just how much thought had been put into this. And Butterfly Earrings Alana listened to what she had to contribute and the conversation bounced back and forth like a beach ball, and Zoe was honestly disappointed when the warning bell rang and they had to go separate ways.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the next session?" Zoe asked, and received another bright smile in return

"Yep!" Butterfly Earrings Alana bounced away in a strange mix of professional and bubbly energy.

Zoe sighed, as she entered the computer science classroom. She hadn't had a conversation that engaging since Val.

Maybe Connor wouldn't be the only one trying to make a real friend.

__________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Zoe! Character depth! Honestly, I love her so much and didn't give her or Alana (or Jared) nearly as much attention as I should have in the original, so prepare for a lot of character studies throughout this story.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading this. I have such a fun time with it. Please leave a comment and or constructive criticism below! As always, hate will be ignored.


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